The School Of The Cynicism
by MomentoMori2
Summary: "Do you remember whom you considered me to be in the beginning of the year? The scumbag, murderer, Death Eater, traitor. I'm all of it. I killed, I have the Mark, I betray. What's the difference that I betray for you…" "I hate you," she whispered, completely exhausted. "Then hate me, Granger. It would be easier for all of us…" Translation.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

To go to the Hogwarts that way was really odd. Like nothing had happened. There were the same soft seats. There was also the same scenery throw the window: firstly was London, then there were large green fields and mountains of Scotland over the horizon. Even the people in their compartment were the same. But this time there were no chats about the quidditch, summer holiday or classes. After Dumbledore's death last year Harry swore that he wouldn't go back to school. At first Hermione didn't believe him. It was insanely to her to stop studying. Even because of war. At first Hermione thought that Harry said that because he was angry, without thinking. And really – when the Hogwarts-express left London, The-Boy-Who-Lived sat near the window, embracing his girlfriend. Granger was happy that he hadn't left school but she still didn't know why he had changed his mind at the very last moment. After the revolution in the Ministry of Magic last summer, Thickness became the Minister. Hermione suspected him to be the man of the Dark Lord. If it wasn't so he wouldn't have ordered to find Harry Potter for killing him and proclaimed the Order of Phoenix to be the terroristic organization. Because of that Hermione hadn't had even a single opportunity to see her friends during that summer. Harry didn't come back to Dursley's, he was somewhere with the Order, actually. Ron was with his family and Hermione's parents took her to France for the rest of the holidays.

So, only three days ago she managed to meet Ginny and learn all the news. After the first shock there was panic –Ministry was now openly against the muggleborns, many of them were already without their wands, even more people became insane after the endless Cruciatus'. Mudbloods were dying. Harry and Ginny tried to persuade Hermione to leave the school with them, too, and she had almost agreed on this proposition when the salvatory letter from Professor McGonagall had come. The head of her house strongly advised – no, even pleased – to all the members of the Golden Trio to return to school, no matter what was happening around, and she said she could guarantee their safety. The words of her favorite teacher were stronger than all the suasions from Harry and Ron. So, 31 August the Golden Trio was gathered together, sitting in the Hogwarts-Express.

Two days before that in the "Daily Prophet" was released an article, announcing that the new Headmaster of Hogwarts became Severus Snape, former Potion's Professor and one of the strongest wizard of today's modern world. There was no information about the fact that Snape was actually the one who killed Dumbledore. Hermione barely glanced at the article before throwing it away. She always agreed with her father when he said that journalists were state's whores, ready to lie with any government if they were paid well enough for their eulogies. Of course, Mr. Granger outspoke it in a softer form, but the sense was all the same.

Ron was the one who resented the most. His angry shouts were heard even in the Ginny's room, where Hermione went in the heat of the conversation, not wanting to argue with friends. Though, nobody understood what Ron wanted to prove and for whom exactly those proofs were adressed, anyway, therefore Ron was shouting in the emptiness.

"No, Hermione, you can't return to school!" he screamed, while girl he screamed at was sitting in the corner of the Burrow's living-room. "Snape can't stand you, he hates you! And what will be now? And you know how Ministry treats the ones like you! Slytherins will just eat you up and won't even notice that!"

"Ron, I made a decision," Hermione started to hide her Arithmancy textbook for seventh years in her bag. "Unlike you, guys, I don't want to become a hero and besides, McGonagall guaranteed my safety. Furthermore, I'm the Head girl!"

"Hermy, you Head's badge won't help you when you meet Malfoy. And he'll certainly get back if Snape is the bloody Headmaster now!" Ron whipped away her textbook. "You know perfectly well that nowadays the murder of Muggleborns is not even considered as a crime, so that Malfoy'd surely get away with it!"

"Ron, give me my book!" Hermione stood up from her chair. "Nor Malfoy, neither Snape are any of my business, I just want to get a diploma!"

"What are you arguing about?" Mrs Weasley entered the room, probably, having heard something from the kitchen. "One can hear you from the opposite end of the house."

"Mom, at least you must tell her that returning to school is a pure suicide!"

"Suicide, young man, is to go on Death Eaters, being half-taught person!" she shouted on her son. "And Hermione is acting perfectly right, wanting to go to school! A pity you're not like her. Go and pack your stuff, now!"

"But mo-o-om, I'm another case! And Hermione…"

Granger didn't hear the next part; she just jumped up from her chair and went upstairs with the speed of the shot. The closest friends didn't understand her and she wasn't able to understand them either. Even Harry agreed that they needed to return to school – after Dumbledore's death Minerva McGonagall became an unofficial head of the Order and Harry decided to keep closer to her to be the first one to learn all the important news. Hermione was against it – the one who must have not gone to school was Harry, especially now, when Snape was leading everything.

Probability that the Boy-Who-Lived would be killed in the very moment of leaving the train was higher than hundred, no, even two hundreds percents. But nobody was able to persuade Harry Potter – something had changed significantly in him during those few summer months, it seemed as if he had grown up for several years.

Ginny changed, too – she became calmer, more judicious; she didn't interrupt the conversations, but always listened for them attentively, memorizing the slightest details. There was a stubborn determination in her eyes - never to leave Harry alone anymore, go with him side by side through all the scrapes, support him in the difficult moment. That determination scared Hermione to shivers. The same thing was with Ron – no way that he would leave at home if his best friends went to school.

And now they were all sitting in their compartment. An unpleasant aftertaste from those arguments several days ago hadn't yet disappeared and Hermione felt herself completely exhausted as she never did before. Harry was staring at the fog outside the window, pretending not to notice anything. Ginny was sitting near him, cross-legged, her head on his shoulder. Ron was writing something in his notebook, holding it in a way that nobody was able to see it. And Hermione herself was sitting in the corner and reading a book, or rather hiding behind it, not saying a word.

Neville entered the compartment for several times but, not able to stand a deathly silence, always left almost immediately. Lavender ran to them, kissed everyone and rushed away again, saying something like "Parvati searched me for something".

Finally, Hermione felt herself fed with it, so she threw her book away, not caring for putting the bookmark, and stood up.

"I'll go to the machinist. Want to know if we'll arrive soon."

Of course, it was a lie – everybody knew perfectly well when the train would arrive in Hogsmead, it was enough to look at the clock to know exactly when. Perhaps, her friends had understood that she lied because she wasn't able to stand sitting in the silent compartment with them anymore, thus, nobody said anything to her. Hermione left the compartment and went down the corridors, entering other carriages. She greeted with Dean Thomas and two other girls from Ravenclaw – she didn't know them but they cast her indifferent "hi" so she had nothing to do but to nod at them indifferently in return. Granger really went to the machinist and greeted him but she didn't ask when they would arrive, leaving him to conjecture about the purpose of her emerging.

The girl stopped in tambour, turning to the window and titling her head on the cold glass. She thought idly that she had better to sleep while she was in compartment so she wouldn't feel herself so broken in that moment. But it was already late for sleep – they were really approaching Hogsmead. And again everything would fall on her head – lessons, studying and now there were also the Head Girl's duties. For the first time in her entire life Hermione didn't feel happy about her achievements. It would've been better if the Head Girl was Hannah Abbot so she would've had an opportunity to be with her friends – they needed her more than school did, after all.

"Well, Granger. Want a cigarette?"

Hermione nearly jumped on the spot and turned around quickly, already knowing who was talking with her. That person was standing near the opposite window, clutching the cigarette in his fingers, gloves on. He was looking down at her with his superior height. That guy was already one of the tallest boys in school and after summer he grew up even more. Blond hair was nearly shoulder-length now and was collected in the tail. Black cloak over expensive suit, black silk shirt. Hermione smirked - Malfoy was always a Malfoy.

"I don't smoke."

"Hm, and I thought it's the Mudbloods' habit."

Why then are you smoking yourself? – She almost said that, but Granger managed to bite her tongue just in time. She didn't feel like arguing with Malfoy.

"It's not allowed to smoke there," that was everything she said.

"And what will you do? Take points from Slytherin? Will make me to go to the detention?" he delayed slowly and then released a plume of smoke at the ceiling in a rather sophisticated movement. "Academic year, it has not started yet, after all."

"Get used to get away with anything, don't you?" Hermione smirked. "And if someday there will be no rich daddy to hide behind his back, what will you do? I'm sure he'll get himself into Azkaban more than once…"

In one swift movement Malfoy appeared at her side, pressing her against the cold wall.

"Don't talk about what you don't know, Mudblood," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Soon, very soon, Azkaban will turn out to be the place for those like you…"

"And the most important thing, live up to this moment, Malfoy."

"For such an occasion I'll surely live up. And just dare to disturb me…" Malfoy, in full force, hit the wall with his fist right next to her head. She shivered because of the loud noise. "Am I clear?"

"Yeah-yeah, why are you yelling, I'm not deaf…" Hermione wasn't afraid at all, though something in Malfoy's eyes told her that if she was any closer – and he would wring her neck right in that very tambour. Just like that, with naked arms, without magic. One of the most muggle-like ways of murdering.

"Are you going to appear in the Heads' carriage or what?" he said scornfully. "I was asked to remind you about that."

"Shit…" Hermione swore, looking at Malfoy's retreating back when he closed the doors o the tambour. Though, she wasn't able to decide what she really was angry about – about her forgotten duties as a Head Girl or about the fact of Draco Malfoy being the Head Boy. But there was no place to think properly about it. Breathing in deeply, Hermione went for Ron and Ginny – a hundred to one they would also want to see the Prefects on their meeting, too.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

And again there was a crowd of first years around Hagrid and there was a trip on carriages and there was that speech from Sorting Hat, which this time – in the sake of variety – was delivered by Professor Vector. There were less first years than in previous years, though – not all parents had risked sending their children in school, supposing that with Dumbledore's death Hogwarts stopped being bastion of safety for young wizards. When all new students finally sat McGonagall raised from her seat.

"I want to welcome all of you with the beginning of the new academic year in Hogwarts," she began. "Previous year was hard for all of us and many people believed school not to open ever again, thus it's even more joyously seeing all the new students there."

Anyone was hardly listening to what Transfiguration Professor was saying – all four Houses were looking at the slim man in black costume, sitting indifferently on the Headmaster's chair. Slytherins were looking with smiles on their faces, Gryffindors – with hate and loath, Hufflepuffs – with dread and distrust, on Ravenclaw's students' faces was only the regular indifference. Snape was silent, though, nobody really expected him to make the speech.

Hermione looked back at Slytherin's table – somehow, she wanted to see Malfoy's reaction. The Head Boy was sitting with perfectly straight back, not paying any attention to what was going on around him and drawing senseless patterns on the table by knife, all the same indifferently. There he raised his head, as if he was able to feel her gaze on him, then he smirked and whispered only with his lips – "Mudblood". Hermione turned back. She was feeling sick because of that gaze of his, there was a certain desire to tear off her clothes with her very skin for not ever remembering, _not feeling_ that gaze.

"And now I want to introduce your new Professors," McGonagall continued her speech. "Amycus Carrow. He'll teach you the Defense against the Dark Arts. And this is Alecto Carrow – Muggle Studies Professor. I want to remind you one more time that this new subject is compulsory for everybody, now."

Hermione glanced at the new Professors. Obviously, brother and sister, both weren't young anymore, wearing blank black cloaks; on both of their faces there was a trace of cruelty.

She heard Harry on her left, gasping in the powerless anger. Granger turned towards him,

"What?"

"They," said Harry, not turning his gaze from the teachers' table. "They were there, on the AstronomicTower. They're Death Eaters."

"Crap…" Hermione glanced once more in the direction of their new Professors. "What will they teach us to…"

"Can't believe it!" Ron's hand tightened into fist. "It's not enough that Snape is still free and is the Headmaster now, no, he also brought his fellows with himself, too! It was worth going back to school, though – at least now there's an opportunity to strangle those snakes with my own hands."

"No, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Calm down. You won't do any better to yourself but will just get into more shit than you are already in."

Ron blushed – obviously, he did understand that he was talking bullshit without thinking. It was his main trouble. Ron was a wonderful, kind and brave guy but he oh-so often at first did and only then was thinking about what he had done. And Harry was the same one. They called it bravery, Malfoy said it was recklessness and Hermione thought it to be a suicide. She remembered hearing that phrase – "You're not born as a hero, you only die like the one". It was Malfoy who had said it, actually. Somehow his words always sunk into the mind, making her look at the familiar things through the new angles.

Malfoy… Hell, why did the thoughts about him floated in her head that evening? Hermione turned back to the Slytherin's table and looked at the Head Boy but he was already in the heat of his supper, drinking his apple juice.

She hadn't yet told Harry and Ron that she would have to live in the same apartments with Slytherin ferret – they would've started to persuade her to leave the post of the Head Girl, proving that is was dangerous for her. What they didn't understand was that Hermione went to that post from the very first year of studying in Hogwarts and now even Malfoy wasn't able to make her leave her path. Besides, she didn't want to fail McGonagall – she couldn't have imagined what it cost the Head of the Order to give such an important post to her, a muggleborn Gryffindor, hated by the very Headmaster Snape.

Supper continued. Snape didn't even wish bon appetite to his students, limiting only with the simple gesture, and left the Great Hall. Hermione was idly poking around in the salad – there was a sudden understanding that after few hours she would be left alone with her enemy and there would be nor Harry neither Ron to protect her.

Hermione was walking after Professor McGonagall, having her eyes glued on her back, trying desperately not to look at the Malfoy, walking on her left. He seemed to enjoy that enormously – he walked, having opened his cloak so that it was dangling from side to side merrily. During that trip Hermione had time to think at least for five times about Harry's proposition to give that post to Hannah Abbot, from Hufflepuff, but then she always caught Malfoy's smirking gaze on herself – he seemed to know about her fears and waited for her to withdraw.

They finally stopped before the entrance to the Head's Tower. McGonagall said the password and the portrait of the Cursed Knight opened, allowing them to step on the narrow spiral staircase. It was dark there, only a few torches in the wall were shining. Hermione shivered – there was a sudden thought that to make the Head's dorms in such a gloomy place was an idea of Slytherins.

"Pass on," they had finally reached top of the stairs. McGonagall opened the door to the Heads' common room. Hermione looked around. Room didn't resemble the depressing staircase at all – a huge window, overlooking the pitch and the mountains, sofa right under that very window, two easychairs near the fireplace and a table near the wall. Two doors - into the dorms, obviously. On one door there was the herb of Gryffindor and on the other one there was the herb of Slytherin.

"How sweet," Malfoy commented, throwing his cloak on the sofa, and then sat on the windowsill.

"Your stuff is already set in place," McGonagall said. "Besides, there is a separate house-elf for the Head Girl and the Head Boy. It's Hetty. You may ask her for help."

Hermione nodded. Malfoy did not react at all, continuing sitting on the sill, twisting the wand in his hands slowly. McGonagall once again looked around the room as if checking if she didn't forget to say something to them and then she left.

At the very moment of closing the door after Professor Hermione headed to her dorm quickly, wanting only one thing – to hide from that ferret, not to see him, not to know he was nearby. She didn't want to confess to herself but the truth was that she was afraid of him, she feared him to the trembling in her hands. She feared his cold gaze, his cruel expression. She was terrified by everything concerning him – from him, murdering Dumbledore, to him, twisting his wand.

"Don't run, Granger," he told her. Words hit her in the very brain.

Hermione was afraid of the fact that he was able to order anybody, not even using Imperio, and one would do exactly as he had told, even the bitter enemies would.

Her hand was already on the handle but, still, she stopped and looked back at Malfoy. He was still sitting, but he didn't twist his wand anymore. And he didn't look away of her, making her unable to breathe.

"What, Malfoy?"

"Obviously, Snape had finally got insane after Crucio if he set you as a Head Girl," he smirked. "It's oddly enough that he didn't immediately throw you in the Commission for Muggleborns."

Hermione shivered. After two months of work Commission earned itself the fame of the department of the Muggleborns' death. Endless humiliations, tortures and interrogation with an aim to claim an imaginary guilt of the muggleborns in murdering purebloods for assigning their wands and helping the rebels from Order… Sometimes wizards preferred to commit the suicide, not bothering themselves to hear the adjudication.

Until Hermione was a student she was under the school's protection. She didn't even want to think about what would happen in a year.

"It's strange that you yourself are not in the Azkaban yet. Dumbledore's murdering…"

She didn't notice how Malfoy moved –in that moment he was sitting near the window and just in a split of a second he was standing near her, clenching her throat and crushing her down to the door.

"I did not kill an old fool and I really regret it," Malfoy hissed. "So you won't bully me with Azkaban. Soon, very soon, it will be the place for those like you, for Mudbloods," the last word, he didn't even say it, he spat it out. "Though, you would not even be thrown in Azkaban, because as a Potter's whore you'd be immediately killed. Of course, in case anybody would like to sully his hands by you."

"You're sullying them right now, for example," Hermione smirked, looking at him scornfully. "Forgot to wear your gloves, Malfoy?"

"Slut," Malfoy swung and hit her on the cheek with the back of his hand. "Don't you ever dare to laugh at me."

"So don't put yourself in the laughable position!"

Hermione wriggled out of his capture and sneaked quickly in her dorm. She slammed the door and instantly set a few protection wards on them. Her cheek was burning after the hit; she wanted to cry in offense but Hermione held back her tears. She wasn't allowed to cry, even of she was alone. The first move was made, pawn stepped forward, E2-E4. Let the war be somewhere out there, Harry Potter fighting Lord Voldemort, Order fighting the Death Eaters, she had her very own war for the survival. And she was not allowed to show the slightest weakness. Next move was after her.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hi guys. Thanks a lot to everyone who had read previous chapter or left a review. Hope you like this story. I know it's not fair when author says to her readers that she won't post new chapter without *a certain number* of comments, and I won't do such a thing, but still, it would be really kind of yours if you leave a review. That'll really help me in further translating :)

Special thank to Wilhelm Wigworthy, who was the first person to leave a review. And guys, I still need a beta-reader. All fatal errors and mistakes are all mine and I'm too lazy to re-read this chapter again in aim of fixing errors I didn't notice in first two times. Enjoy the New Chapter! ^_^

**Chapter 2**

"Hermione, fwat had happened with youf che-f-ek?" that was the first Ron's question when girl entered the Great Hall next morning.

"What?" Hermione stared at her friend, having suddenly understood that she completely forgot the yesterday's slap. Obviously, there was a trace, left after Malfoy's hand.

"What had happened with your cheek?" Harry repeated, and that time he wasn't translating Ron's words, he was asking himself.

"Nothing," Head Girl murmured, sitting down and trying to hide her face with her hair.

"Nothing?!" Harry didn't believe her. "You have the trace of slap," his face suddenly became severe, in his green eyes there was that oh-so familiar firmness to protect his friends till the very end. "Mione, it was Malfoy, wasn't he?"

"How many times have I asked you not to call me like that?!" Hermione didn't expect herself to become so angry because of friends' care about her so that it provoked her to start yelling and shouting at them. Harry looked at her through his glasses, completely surprised.

"I'm sorry.…" he said. "But still – what had happened? Is it Malfoy? Did he decide to fight with you?"

"Who cares?" Hermione exclaimed in vexation, filling her plate with toasts. "Have I complained about something?"

"Hermione, Malfoy had slammed you, hadn't he?" thanks Merlin, Ron swallowed his breakfast so he wasn't speaking with the full mouth anymore. "How dare he? I'll..."

"Sit down, Ron," Hermione wrinkled, catching Ron's pullover. He was ready to run to the Slytherin's table to fight for justice. "Didn't I warn you? You'll only get into more troubles."

"Hermione, you have to talk to McGonagall and ask if it's possible for you to leave the Head's post," Harry said seriously. "You can't be left with Malfoy one to one..."

"What is the matter about that?" Hermione pushed her plate away angrily so that a few toasts had fallen on the table. "I'll deal with Malfoy by myself! As if you have nothing to do but to irritate me!"

She looked down on her cup of tea. What a foolishness she did - not to hide a bruise. She could have at least covered it with her hair if she didn't use make-up. Hermione suppressed a nervous chuckle - a good reason to start to use cosmetics for masking bruises, made by Malfoy. As if she was a miserable wife and he was a despotic husband.

"Harry, have you talked with McGonagall?"

"No, not yet. I'll tell her everything today, after classes."

"What do you have to discuss?" Ginny, being silent during the whole conversation, wondered briefly.

"It's... It doesn't matter."

"Is it about previous year?" Ginny squinted. When she did so she was able to contend in suspiciousness and discernment even with Snape. "It's about what Dumbledore was doing, right?"

"Ginny, not now, okay?" Harry tried to calm her down. "I'll tell you everything later."

"Yeah, and during that 'later' you'll be half-murdered again! Will it be a proper time for you to tell me? Enough!" Gryffindor hit the table with her palm determinately. "What it going on? Tell me, what is going on?"

"Really, Ginny, not now," Hermione said, looking at her friend. It was the last thing they needed - to discuss Order's affairs in the Great Hall where everybody could have heard them.

Wordlessly, Weasley turned back to her plate, making clear for everybody that she was infuriated. Hermione sighed deeply and put her tea on the table - there was no appetite left.

They agreed to meet in her room, after classes being finished, - since Ginny was put on the post of Prefect she was given a separate dorm. In those rare minutes of rest they liked to shut themselves in her room, hiding from Ron and Hermione, and just sit there, not even talking. Or to drink butter-beer. Or to kiss passionately, thinking about nothing, until their heads were spinning and clothes were thrown on the floor.

But in that moment, climbing the Gryffindor common-room, Harry thought that he would have better hidden in his own dorm and sat there with the Invisible cloak put on, than to meet Ginny. And he would have certainly done something like that, but either his Gryffindor courage or heightened sense of justice, he didn't know, had pushed him towards the Prefects' tower.

Ginny sat on her bed, cross-legged, reading a book. In these latter days she more and more resembled Hermione - and to Ron's annoyance - not leaving her room without book, trying to have O's from every subject.

"Ginny..."

Redhead raised her head, stopping reading, and smiled (though that smile never reached her eyes).

"How was your day?"

"Could've been worse. It's good that Snape is not teaching anymore, otherwise we would have had a test immediately," Harry smiled sadly. "Though, McGonagall is not much better, she likes tests, too."

"You had it, too? Obviously, it's a sort of hobby of theirs. Or Snape's order - he likes such things."

Harry frowned, discontented, for he didn't like where their conversation was heading. It was the last thing he wanted in that moment - to discuss a new Headmaster.

"Harry, tell me, what were you discussing with Hermione this morning?" Ginny asked, looking at her boyfriend, concerned. "Is it something related to Dumbledore?"

"Ginny, I..." it seemed he doubt his decision for a minute, whether to tell her something or not, believing naively that he was protecting her that way. "I can't tell you."

"Do you not trust me?"

Harry didn't expect such a question.

"Why, of course, I trust you..."

"Then why don't you tell me? I know that something is going on. Something that you have discussed with Dumbledore when he was still alive. And Hermione and Ron know it, too, right? I know you told them everything."

"Then why didn't you take 'long ears' from Fred' and George' shop? Eavesdropped a little bit..." Harry growled, thinking, that he and Ron would have done just like that. "With your honesty, you must be in Hufflepuff..."

"Gryffindor is our family's feature," Ginny smirked, but in a few seconds became serious again. "So what?"

"Ginny, try to understand... I can't," Harry turned his back. "It's just... there are things that are better for you not to know about. I don't want to implicate you in this."

" 'In this' what?!" Ginny jumped from her bed, then run towards him and hit his chest with her palms. There she was, Weasley, - can explode in every second. "We have already passed that! Stop making up stupid reasons for my own sake! We're all tied - you, me, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Cho... If we will be killed then I want to know what I die for!"

"Ginny, calm down!" Harry take her palms and squeezed her tightly. "Enough. You just don't understand."

"And I won't understand if you don't tell me anything! Do you know how I am fed to the teeth with this? You behave like a Hero, saving the world and fighting all alone with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Ginny slipped out from his embrace. Her hair was bushy at that moment, she was staring at him angrily from under her fringe, resembling much an offended puppy. "But if you were murdered, we would scarcely feel ourselves protected and calm!"

"Dumbledore didn't want me to tell anything!"

"As if you always listened to what he was saying! Open your eyes, Harry! Do you really not see anything through your glasses? There is no Dumbledore, he's dead, being killed by Snape, and now that Slytherin has all of us in his grip! And you know that he's a Death Eater! So what? Do you still want me to know nothing? You're just a coward, Harry! Or an egoist!"

Harry fell silent, not knowing what to say. At that moment there was no familiar Ginny in that room, always so calm and quiet, being able to create around her the feeling of coziness and home. And Harry understood that she was deadly right.

"I'm fed with this," Ginny grumbled suddenly, not referring to someone particular, then she waved her hand and got out the room. Harry was left alone.

That evening Ginny found Harry on the Quidditch pitch - even though all matches were cancelled, all teams decided to continue practicing, a fortiori Harry, in whose life there was left no joy, except his friends and flying on his broom. But he wasn't flying then. He sat in the middle of the pitch, having put his broom nearby and pulling up the grass aimlessly.

"Harry!" Ginny called him as if there were no unpleasant conversations in her dorm that day. "I've been searching for you."

Harry stopped pulling up the grass and turned to his girlfriend.

"How have you found me?"

"If you're neither in your dorm, common-room nor the Great Hall, then there is only one place where you can be," Ginny sat on the grass near him.

"Logically," Harry murmured, turning from her once again.

"I jut want to talk..."

"And I don't," it was rougher than he wanted it to sound, but it seemed that Ginny wasn't paying attention.

"Not about that. You'll tell me eventually, after all, when you grow wiser. I was talking with Luna today. We must recall Dumbledore's Army."

Click! It seemed she had turned an unknown switch - moment before Harry sat on the grass, not knowing what to do, not understanding what he was doing and why, and there he was, with a suddenly raised head and concentrated expression.

"For what?"

"Have you already had Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"No. No, we haven't. First class is on Friday. With Slytherin," Harry added with a sigh.

It seemed to be a tradition already - every year to have DADA and Potions with Slytherin. That year, in honor of a new Headmaster, tradition was changed - Gryffindor had Potions with Ravenclaw. Lessons immediately became more interesting, and Harry couldn't help but smiled, thinking about infuriated Malfoy.

"And sixth years from Ravenclaw and Slytherin already had," Ginny said. "Luna told me everything. Do you know how class is going on? Carrow picks pureblood students and demonstrate curses from the Dark Arts on the ones who are left. Those, who decline to use curses, are becoming guinea pigs, too. Do you know Duncan Engliby?"

Harry nodded, having remembered one of the Ravenclaw's Quidditch player.

"He's in the Hospital Wing now. After DADA. Luna seriously considers to left school, a fortiori if Carrow takes power."

"Why is she scared? She's a pureblood, after all..."

"Snape knows that she supported Dumbledore. Besides, last year she fought with Death Eaters."

"Shit..." Harry whispered and then spit on the grass. Somehow, he didn't think much about what would be happening on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. It seemed one could boldly remove the word 'defense' from the designation, leaving only 'the Dark Arts'.

"If I say that Luna is completely right and Hermione and you must immediately leave the school, will you obey?"

"Of course, not. You've already known the answer," Ginny responded.

"And why is it so hard when it concerns you..."

"Maybe, because we love you?"

In the first time in that day Harry smiled sincerely, though one can hardly identify that fleeting movement of his lips as smile. Damn it, why was it all so complicated? They had just arrived, so why there was already so much shit? Snape, Malfoy, Carrow... Enough place for little Lord Voldemort with his fragile dementors.

"So what will we do with DA?" Ginny reminded him when a pause seemed to be way too long.

"We'll gather as soon as possible," Harry nodded. " Even if not because of Carrow, I still don't like what is going on. School is headed by Death Eaters. There is no one to protect us, and McGonagall won't trample against Snape. We have to defend ourselves by our own..."

Ginny sighed tiredly, putting her head on Harry's knees and remaining in that position.

"Have you ever had the feeling that something important is going on, something that we can't even imagine?" she asked.

"Ginny, if you're again about..."

"No-no," she said hastily. "It's just... crap, I can't explain. It's like... We've always been doing what Dumbledore told us to do. He always had his own plan, he knew what to do. Fuck, he even had a reason to keep Snape at school, after all! And now what? We don't know anything, bustling like blind baby-dragons. And don't know anything! Doesn't it seem to you that something constantly eludes our attention?"

"Ginny, it seems that something eludes my attention from my very birth," Harry sighed, embracing his girl. "Something always eludes my attention. At first, the fact that I was a wizard, then the fact that Sirius didn't betray my parents, then the fact that Voldemort was back..."

Yeah, right, Voldemort must have send an owl, informing about his plans... What stupid thoughts go to one's head sometimes...

"I don't know anything. Everybody expects something from me, and I don't know what to do. This is not my war, Ginny. I never wanted to fight, all the more so to save the world, becoming a hero. This is their war, of Voldemort and Order. Of Dumbledore. There were two grandmasters. And I was turned into a pawn..."

They gathered DA on that very week, right after Amycus' first lesson from DADA in Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was still painful for Harry to look at Hermione - Head Girl, sublime and proud as always, went down school corridors, holding her head high, but Harry remembered her, compressing her teeth, trying not to scream with pain when Carrow demonstrated Forbidden Curses on her. Or were they now allowed? He wondered, for whom exactly. For Death Eaters? For Pureblood wizards?

Malfoy was sitting behind his desk during all lesson, not even trying to get in the first rows of his fellow Slytherins to see as his most hated Mudblood was suffering. He smiled - and Harry started to want to break his jaw even more, only to remove that smirk from his face, only to take revenge for his Hermione, even if a very little one. Oh, that ferret knew all those curses, that was for sure; he had probably thrown all of them a hundred of times.

If there was no Ron, Harry would have done exactly what he wanted to do. But in that moment he had to hold Weasley, who was eager to help his friend, not paying any attention to what was going on around him. But Harry paid attention. And the main thing he saw was Hermione's gaze - it ordered them not to meddle in it, not to jeopardize themselves after her fiasco.

Then they took Hermione in Ginny's room and there their Head Girl, having fought with pain all the time, started to clean her uniform from blood, her arms trembling.

"No, Harry, it was my fault," she said quietly after hearing their demand to go immediately to McGonagall and tell her everything. "I mustn't have asked... I found those troubles completely by my own. Well, it's a lesson for me - one can't think that one knows everything. You see, some curses are unknown for me..."

Harry and Ron exchanged concerned glances. Both of them thought about the same thing - one couldn't learn everything from books. All the more from the books that were in Hogwarts' library.

In Thursday they gathered between bookshelves, hiding from everyone else, wanting to discuss all the important questions. Though, it was said too loudly - except Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny there were only Luna, Creevey brothers and Ernie Macmillan, from Hufflepuff.

"We must discuss everything as soon as possible until madam Pince doesn't throw us from library," Neville said, looking around attentively. "Everybody is already familiar with Carrow. I don't know about you, guys, but I don't want Death Eaters to be raised in Hogwarts."

"Neville, even if there were no Carrows, don't forget that Snape is a Headmaster now. And he, as you know, is a Death Eater," Harry said quietly. Harry seemed to keep himself aloof from leadership of DA, giving that post to Neville.

Hermione wasn't listening to what Longbottom was saying, she heard only something about the Room of Requirement and a new way to communicate inside the Army because they couldn't use old galleons - Malfoy knew about them. Her thoughts were again wrapped around Head Boy. He was for sure one of those few scums who were happy about the situation in school. He would certainly be glad if the new generation of Death Eaters was trained there. What about being glad, it was not enough - he would himself take part in training Slytherin first years in Avada Kedavra and Crucio, casting them on Muggleborns, those like her.

They decided that Ginny would invent a new way of communication, Neville and Luna would try to attract new students to go to DA (frankly, speaking, every Muggleborn or Half-blood was their potential member), Harry would try to find out something about Order to keep abreast of developments. Hermione got the most painstaking work, though Granger herself didn't object at all - her task was to look through library books once more to find out if there were protective curses against the Dark Arts in their books. They decided not to discuss anything else, besides, madam Pince was already glaring at them from her spot.

Harry and Ginny offered Hermione to spend evening in the common-room but all of a sudden she declined and went to her tower, understanding that by that decision she was dooming herself on another hassle with Malfoy. Premonition didn't deceive her - Slytherin was sitting on the windowsill, legs near the very frame, and smoking silently, not paying any attention to her. Hermione wrinkled - room was full of smoke as if he had smoked out all the pack. Though, it was probably true, considering the amount of cigarette butts in the ashtray, lying nearby.

"You could've at least opened the window," Hermione said tiredly, waving her hand near her nose. It didn't help against the smoke, she only felt herself as a complete idiot.

Malfoy slowly turned to her, giving her a scornful glance. Shit, why did she always was afraid in his presence? It was not a fear _of_ him, but a fear _because_ of him, baseless, causeless and irrational one. Fear that couldn't even have been explained by the fact that he was Malfoy.

"Don't dare order me, Mudblood," he said indifferently, turning back again. "I thought Carrow had shown you your place. Or are you way too stupid to figure it out by yourself?"

"I'm not ordering you, I just don't want you to choke."

"What a touching care, Granger!" Malfoy laughed. "I assure you that when I decide to kill myself I'll invent more interesting way of doing so."

"Don't forget to call me in that case," Hermione rather spat the word than actually said it and then went to her room. She thrown her bag on the floor and fall on her bed, face on the pillow. She didn't say anything in presence of Harry, Ron and Neville but she saw that their scheme with Dumbledore's Army was a complete waste of time and all the plan was foredoomed to failure. It didn't matter how many books she would read or how many curses Harry would learn, it was all nothing in comparison with Malfoy and his friends, behind whose backs there were such experienced Death Eaters as Snape, Lucius and now Carrow. And they? They were just a bunch of teenagers who were learning on their own faults, in endless fear of being uncovered by Death Eaters. And they would surely find out about them. Snape would find out. They wouldn't stand against the real Dark Magic, and that demonstration on DADA, during which a miracle she didn't die, never showed a real power of the darkness. A simple Protego was in no use against it. Then what they had to do?

Hermione sat on her bed, throwing hair behind her back. Chess pieces were frozen on the desk, waiting for player to make a move. But in that game chessmen were left alone, they had to decide by their own the strategy of attack and defense. And a knowledge about what you were fighting with was already a protection. Hermione smiled. Others would wait her next move. And she had more important things to do.

Granger, not paying any attention to Malfoy, run back to the library.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I'm really thankful for those who followed and faved, but a special thank is for those few who reviewed, it really means a lot for me : DracoHermionelover98, Wilhelm Wigworthy and two other guests, who wanted to remain anonymous. And yes, answering one of questions, it's Dramione :3

And guys, seriously, I need a beta-reader. Somebody, please, help me! All mistakes and fatal errors in this chapter are all mine, and I love and respect them :D

**Chapter 3**

There were no necessary books in library but a week later Hermione sat in the Heads' common-room, holding in front of herself a big volume. She didn't know how McGonagall managed to bring it in Hogwarts. Pages of that thick heavy book were yellowed because of age, text was teemed with ancient turnovers, and Hermione could surely say that book wasn't read for years. She knew that McGonagall checked it few times (there might have been protective wards and curses) but she still opened that book with a dread. And after opening it she wasn't able to persuade herself not only to overlook the text but also to read it attentively, analyzing and making notes for the future. In general, in first ten minutes Granger just sat with the open book on her lap.

McGonagall didn't say from where did she take that book from and Hermione didn't ask. It was enough for her to know that for the using of curses, described in that thick volume, one could be thrown into Azkaban (if not meet Dementor immediately). Correction - one could have been thrown into prison _before_. Now everything depended on who was throwing the curse and against whom it was thrown.

The doors opened and closed without any noise, Malfoy entered the room. Hermione didn't even notice him until he stopped right above her.

"And you still don't see anything except books... No wonder that even your Weasel started dating with that Brown girl and not with you."

Hermione raised her head and looked at Malfoy. Despite the perfect suit, accurate haircut and scornfully indifferent expression, she could have told by his eyes that he was deadly tired. That day they had no mutual classes, but Granger remembered that she didn't see him at breakfast either. She wondered briefly where he hanged around to be so spent.

"And why do you care?"

"I don't," Malfoy threw his cloak on the sofa. "But it would be interesting to look at the idiot who would date with you."

Hermione didn't say anything, returning her attention to the book. And then she suddenly realized that she couldn't have allowed Malfoy to see it. But it was too late - Slytherin read the text with a genuine interest, holding a few pages.

"Granger, have nobody told you that it's dangerous to read such books?" he smirked, taking the book form her hands and leafing through the text lazily.

"Forgot to ask you first, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled, being angry with herself for letting him to discover about the existence of the book in the first place. "Why do you give a shit at all, huh?"

"I'm just curious why the best Gryffindor student reads history of the Dark Arts."

"Malfoy, in a case you didn't notice, now we learn Dark Magic all the time," she laughed. "And I always try to learn more than school program demands."

"Dead frost," Malfoy smirked scornfully and threw the book on table. "In fact, I think it's time for you to say goodbye to your title of the smartest student in the school. You have to admit that present curriculum is a hard nut to crack, even with your badger's teeth."

"Why, Malfoy?" Hermione moved up the book, clinging to it as if she feared somebody would take it from her. "Don't want to admit that I'm better than you, do you?"

"No, Granger," he open the window and started to smoke, having sat on the sill. "It's just you're a Gryffindor."

What a simple answer! As if it was a diagnosis. A Slytherin, a Gryffindor! And for the first time in her life Malfoy seemed to say it without his habitual scorn, though his reply was filled with a strange sadness.

"And what?"

"And that!" he shrugged. "I have a hard time remembering any Gryffindor to fall over Dark Arts."

"I don't fall over it! I just want to know what it is!"

"Oh, come on!" Malfoy was now laughing overtly. "Just remember yourself in the fourth year! You had almost fainted when you was asked what Avada Kedavra meant."

Hermione felt a shiver down her spine - Malfoy pronounced the killing curse so calmly and habitually as if it was a simple 'hi'. She wondered if he had already killed somebody. Whom? Was he a wizard, muggle or a house elf, who spilled coffee on his perfectly polished shoes? And what did he feel? What did he think about, doing that?

"And now you're throwing yourself into Dark magic! Aren't you scared, huh?"

"Why, thank you, but I'll deal with it by myself, okay?" Hermione murmured, picking up the book, and then headed to the entrance door. She would always have time to think about philosophical aspects of using Dark magic at sleepless hours of the night, and at that moment she needed to talk to Harry.

"That's it."

Hermione threw the book on Ginny's table.

"Hades Carlisle, _The History of Dark Magick, Theory and Practice_," Ron read aloud, looking over her shoulder. "Wow, what an interesting reading you have now! And don't say you found it in Hogwarts' library."

"I didn't. There is nothing like this in the library. McGonagall gave me it, and I didn't ask were did she fish it out," Granger opened the book and started leafing through pages feverishly. "Here, look. It's _Elterny _curse, the one I was under during the lesson. And there are given ways of protection against it, though wards are dark, too. Simple Protego or Expelliarmus are in no use against it."

"Are there collected all the curses?" Harry stared doubtfully at the title of the book.

"No, they're not," Hermione fetched a sigh, a sadness in her tone. "As you understand, the book is not new, therefore there are only the simplest curses, basic level, so to speak. But there is given a defense against them!"

"And what do you suggest?" Harry asked again. "To train on the DA meeting? For what? Against whom?"

"What's the difference?" Hermione protested heatedly. "It would be _something_! Otherwise they'd continue turning us into dolls for whipping!"

"They'll find it out," Ginny said thoughtfully, but her eyes were shining brightly. "It's enough for anybody of us to use such a defense and they'll tumble out that we learn it somewhere else."

"They'll find out anyway," Hermione sighed with a vex and closed the book. "Malfoy had seen it."

"And what?"

"He laughed," Head Girl shrugged.

"Uh-huh. There would be no laughing matter for us, though," Ron murmured.

"I don' get it!" Hermione exploded. "At first you want me to help you and to rummage all the library books in search of new hexes, and then, when I have really found something, you say that it doesn't suit you! If we can't use it at lessons, it will surely help us in another situation! Or do you have a better proposition?"

"Don' be mad," Harry smiled. "It's just when we asked you to find something we didn't think it would be a Dark magic."

"Fight fire with fire - isn't it somehow familiar to you?" Hermione put the book and sat down near Ginny. "Do you think I like the idea of going into Dark Arts? But I don't see another option somehow."

And she started to glare at the pullover's seam defiantly. Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged glances silently. Hermione could have bet on anything that they all were thinking about the same thing - was the game worth it? Pawns started to play by themselves. Which figure would be the first to get rid of?

It was night when Hermione, laying in her bed, looked at the ceiling and mused about everything. At first she thought about Charms homework she didn't have time to make, and it didn't matter it was set on the next week. It was completely not in her style not to do homework in the day of getting the task. Though, there really wasn't a time for that. She snorted - did it really happen that for bookworm Granger there emerged more important things than education? Yes, it did. A survival. She had to survive despite everything, and because of present school's rules it would be oh-so harder than it could have been.

Colin Creevey was sent to the Hospital Wing that day - Carrow appointed him a sort of punishment in which Professor demonstrated Cutting curses on the example of Creevey for Slytherin third years to better understand the "subject". Laughter stuck in her throat - in third grade they learned how to turn Boggart into the clown, and her biggest nightmare was a bad mark on the McGonagall's test. And now... Hermione couldn't have even said what was able to scare her as much as a bad mark did in that time.

Terry Boot had been walking the school with a bandaging on his cheek for two days already - Alecto Carrow didn't really like one of his remarks that concerned muggles, so she decided to punish him this way. Madame Pomfrey wanted to leave Ravenclaw for a few days in the Hospital Wing but she limited herself with suturing and the demand for him to regularly change the bandage.

Even Ginny was in bandages - she refused to cast a dark curse in a Muggleborn Hufflepuff on a DADA class. Carrow made her to write a phrase "I'm a pureblood" with a magic quill. She lied to Harry and Ron that she had just pinched her hand with the doors, but she told all the truth to Hermione, who was bandaging her.

Granger wondered how much time would pass for them to be really taught how to kill.

Once again she turned her thoughts to Malfoy and their conversation that day. She was curious if she was able to kill. To wave her wand and say Avada Kedavra. Or was she really too Gryffindorish for that? If her life depended on it, would she be able to sacrifice her principles and murder someone? It seemed there was a muggle term among the lawyers - "a murder in the sake of self-defense", which wasn't even considered as an actual murder. Or was she not remembering it clearly? Hermione didn't know very well muggle jurisprudence.

She sighed and turned on her side, looking at the window - in the gap between the curtains she was able to see a few stars on the dark sky.

She wondered on what exactly Harry's faith in the better side of every human-being was based? Or was it another one of her mistakes in people? She was sure Harry would never kill a man for saving his life. He would kill for saving his friends' life, in that case he would; but not for his own one. And what about Malfoy? Ha! Hermione couldn't have stopped a snicker. This one would kill anybody for his precious ass without a slightest hesitation, even his friends.

And did he have friends? Such friends as Harry and Ron, ready to do everything for each other? The answer was obviously simple - he didn't. It was Malfoy after all, he could have friends. He could befriend only with those who were beneficial to be friends with, and only those to which Malfoy's company was beneficial would befriend him.

She would have to go to Alecto Carrow's lesson tomorrow. She would sit on the very last row, pretending to listen to her lecture attentively and even agree with something Professor would say. Granger would listen to the speech about muggle's nothingness and the fact that they didn't deserve to live in this world. And she would hold back her feelings and try not to conjure a gun to shoot Carrow, to kill her in the simplest muggle manner for her to understand that muggles were not worse than wizards, that they too were able to kill.

Fuck, it seemed that all her thoughts were flowing around two subjects - murder and Malfoy. To murder Malfoy... Hermione smiled again - the very idea of it was really tempting but at the same time it was unrealizable. Oh, but she wanted it so much...

Malfoy. Hermione was furious with herself for thinking about him so much time lately. Slytherin Prince, ferret, scumbag and Death Eater's son, he was preparing to get the Dark Mark too, in case he hadn't got it yet. A boy who slept with the half of senior girls in school, a man who had to kill Dumbledore.

"What an ass you are..." Hermione whispered to the silence of the room, knowing perfectly well that she would never dare say those very words to Malfoy himself. Because of the elemental fear. If his earlier threats were limited to "I'll tell father about that" and there was nothing behind them, then now he was really dangerous. His father wasn't behind him now, he was all alone. And - what was really strange - he didn't brake, didn't withdraw into the shadows. On the contrary - Malfoy became even tougher, and now his words weren't just thrown to the wind. Somehow, Hermione didn't doubt that after the threat of killing would go a real murder. She wondered how much time would pass for them to get a brand new Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione turned on her back once again. It must have been past midnight already, but there was no sleep in her mind because of the blonde guy, sitting on the sill and holding a cigarette. Since he started to open the window and to smoke on the common-room it became his favorite place. Granger saw him countless times in that position - sitting on the sill, holding his hand with a cigarette on his knee, ashtray and a glass of Firewhiskey nearby. Such picture was so habitual that she started to notice the slightest changes - his hair was made in tail, though he always had it loose; he drunk brandy instead of habitual Firewhiskey, etc. She even noticed how he run his hand through his hair, combing upwards fallen locks. Somehow, that particular gesture always irritated her. It was so slovenly, so muggle-like that it just didn't fit him. Hermione got used to the thought that Malfoy's appearance was nothing but perfection - a perfect haircut, a perfect suit, even his emotionless expression was perfect. And there it was - that habit that was so familiar to her because of Ron. Ron always removed his hair in that way, too.

But, somehow, when Ron did so, she always remembered Malfoy; and when it was done by Slytherin, it never reminded her of Ron, she was just watching silently as blonde locks slid between his pale fingers.

Almost growling, Granger buried her face in the pillow and hit the blanket with her fist. It was great that she wouldn't have a first lesson tomorrow, but then she would have to sit on Ancient Runes; and if she went there sleepy, she most certainly wouldn't be able to answer the simplest question and Professor Babbling would take points from Gryffindor.

Once again she felt like laughing. There she was, returning four years backwards. Hermione again started to fear that because of her there would be less points in their cup. Only a second ago she thought about murdering and then again - the main thing in life was an education.

Hermione sat up abruptly. Oh, she would be able. She would certainly do it without a second thought. She'd wave her wand and pronounce those two scary words because of which many wizards had died. She'd kill and not necessary for only saving her life. Granger would murder if there was someone in front of her who deserved to be killed. Like Snape. Or Carrows. Her hatred and courage would be enough for that.

Somehow, because of that thought she felt a dread. Such fear that she almost shivered. Hermione embraced herself with her arms and clenched her teeth, trying to calm down. She seemed to make the decision in that moment - she'd kill a living man. As simply as if she would perform some weather charms. Although, she never felt like an addict on breaking point because of weather charms.

It was half past first on grandfather clock. Hermione uncovered herself and exited the room in a quick pace. It was dark in the common-room - fire in the chimney was went off long ago, and Hermione didn't felt like lighting it again - she did orientate well in the room, besides, there was enough light form the moon. She made her way to the table, then she opened the locker and raked papers. Behind them there was a bottle of Firewhiskey - Malfoy didn't take it in his room for some reason, he didn't charm it to be invisible or something else; instead of that he hid it from teachers in such a dilettantish manner. Though, who would check, anyway? The password to the common-room was known only by the two of them, and by McGonagall and Snape. The first one, Minerva, would never fall so low as to rummage students' things; and the second one, Snape, would only laugh at the sight of it.

Having Accio'ed the glass, she pulled the cork out of the bottle.

"Would you mind to pour it in for me, too?" she heard behind her back, his voice husky, familiarly drawling.

Hermione turned back harshly, having thrown the glass with her elbow - it fell on the floor and broke, but Hermione didn't pay attention - there, sitting on the sill, was Draco Malfoy.

Draco's reaction was faster then hers - he immediately got his wand and waved it,

"Reparo."

Crystal shards gathered back in the glass and returned to their place on the table. And Gryffindor just continued staring at him, holding o bottle of Firewhiskey in her hand.

"What an amazing picture - the first killjoy of the school drinks alcohol at night. I'm dreaming," Malfoy smirked, eyeing her from head to toes.

She didn't even put on a robe. Granger exited her room in the clothes in which she usually slept - sleeveless shirt and soft breeches. He hair was made in the braid for a night, but, obviously, she was too much tossing and turning in her bed so that the braid disheveled.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.

"I'm smoking," Draco took a cigarette and lighted it, his lighter clicked softly. He could have lighted it with his wand, but somehow he liked doing it in a muggle way. It allowed him to distract himself and stop thinking.

He still remembered his first cigarette - it was half a year ago. Though, he didn't remember from where did he get those cigarettes. Perhaps, he was regaled by Slytherin seven year, or perhaps he found a pack in the common-room. Though, no; most likely he had bought it by himself when he was in London. On the first puff Draco had a fit of coughing as any beginner did, from the second one he felt dizziness and on the last one his fingers became cold. When father discovered that he started to smoke, he winced scornfully and said that this habit was completely mugglish and it would have been better if he smoked a pipe as every self-respecting pureblood wizard did, he also told him not to smoke in the living-room, dining-room, in the library and "in the entire house except his own room". Perhaps, he started to smoke particularly muggle cigarettes because of silent protest, he even bought them in muggle London, charming himself with Glamour charms for sellers not to ask questions - in muggle world nobody sold cigarettes to the sixteen-seventeen years old buddies.

"So would you pour me whiskey or not?"

Hermione, having awaken from stupor, poured whiskey in the glass and gave it to him.

"And why didn't you pour to yourself?"

"I don't want to drink."

"You wanted it a minute ago. Or was it me who screwed it up for you?"

She didn't reply and continued silently staring at him. A girl looked unusually - disheveled, in crumpled suit and soft sneakers. She looked like home.

"Why are you not sleeping?" she asked.

"Because I'm not sleeping."

"It's almost one o'clock now."

"And what?"

"Nothing," Hermione shrugged. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Of course, you couldn't believe that somebody can have a work at this period of night," Malfoy snorted, taking a sip. Whiskey burned his throat familiarly, leaving after itself a strange bittersweet taste in his mouth. Draco took a long drag. Nevertheless, he still was tired, though he was sitting there in front of Granger, pretending that everything was as usually as ever. He wanted to drink as hell, but it was too lazy for him to even go to the bottle by himself - so thanks Merlin that Mudblood had got out of her bed at all.

"Have you just come back?" Hermione's eyes widened - apparently, only now she noticed that he was wearing his warm suit and road cloak.

"Five points to Gryffindor for shrewdness," Malfoy snorted once again, folding back the hair from his forehead.

Granger looked at his hand strangely, a glimpse in her eyes, and then turned abruptly, Accio'ed the second glass and poured in the whiskey, that time for herself.

"Where were you?"

"And that's none of your business," he said with a sudden fury, this splash of anger was abrupt even for himself.

She shrugged nonchalantly, making it clear that she didn't expect him to reply at all. Hermione brought the glass to her lips and took a careful sip, after which she winced - flavor was not really that tasty. Draco took a drag on his cigarette hastily to hide a smirk. Granger, the Golden girl, in the late hours of night stole Firewhiskey from abhorrent Slytherin and now was even trying to get information from him.

He reverted his eyes to the window. What was going on in that world?.. He was in the same room with Gryffindor Mudblood, wining and dining her with Firewhiskey from Family reserves, answering her questions. Not all, of course. He would have never told her that he visited their family lawyer. Granger didn't need to know it at all. And still...

In the corner of his eyes Malfoy noticed that she moved - a girl sat at the table across from him, having bent her leg, and put her arm with the glass on her knee. And now she was eyeing him. She looked at him with a barely hidden smirk, little imps in her eyes which were perfectly clear even in the Moon's light.

"What are you staring at?"

"I may not, if you want," Hermione shrugged indifferently and took another sip. Now it was Malfoy who was eyeing her. It was strange that he had never really seen her that way. Though, did he had time to look at her, when all previous years they lived in different Houses, and in this year they were avoiding each other diligently, even living as neighbors? He got used to her, wearing school uniform all the time, tightening around her neatly buttoned shirt that hateful golden-red tie and hiding her figure under her cloak. And it turned out that she had beautiful legs, besides, her figure was nice in general - not anorexic one as in Pansy Parkinson version and not "sandglass" as Daphna Greengrass, no, just a slim lady with normal breasts for seventeen years old girl, who had thin waist. Though figure was not the main thing, she had another wealth - her hair. Long, almost to the waist, heavy and with deep dark brown color, Draco knew that almost all girls in Hogwarts envied Granger for her hair, although Slytherins would better bear Crucio than to admit it.

_Merlin pants, what am I doing?_ Malfoy noticed that his cigarette was almost smoldered. He throw a cigarette butt out the window. _Sitting there and viewing Granger as a girl. _

Though, he had to admit that she became prettier. From funny girl with bushy hair she turned into nice young woman. If she wanted she could have become the First Beauty of the school, every guy could have been hers. But no, books were more important for her. That was why she was always alone. He wondered if Potter and Weasley had ever noticed that Granger was a girl, or was she a Brain first of all? And indeed it was interesting if she ever had a boyfriend, except of that Bulgarian hunter.

Those thoughts brought him a sort of perverse and twisted pleasure. Malfoy rarely allowed himself to think about Mudbloods as of human-beings. And if he did, then he always followed with a sincere interest the course of his musings. It was a pleasure for him to break the rules.

"Malfoy, do tell, have you ever killed?" that question was like a bucket of cold water. She turned harshly from the beautiful girl to the Mudblood Granger, Gryffindor killjoy and Potter's friend with her moral principles and everlasting faith in the Greater Good.

"Why do you want to know?"

She shrugged, took another sip and winced once again,

"I don't. I just try to understand."

"To understand what, Granger? On which side am I? Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, you're not the one you pretend to be. After all, you wasn't able to kill Dumbledore," did he mishear or was her voice really trembling?

"Granger, do not be a holy. You're not Potter, after all. I thought it was his privilege to carry on those teary conversations."

"Is it so hard to reply?"

"Do think if you really want to hear the answer."

He almost regretted saying so. Hermione's expression, at first thoughtful and calm, changed abruptly to the alert and inclement one. No, Granger was definitely not Potter, she wasn't so bound to Good-Evil concepts as fucking Golden Boy was.

"Granger, don't bother me with your questions, alright?" Draco sighed and titled his head back. "I'm not asking how many guys you have, am I? Actually, I don't understand at all why the fuck I'm sitting here with you, answering your stupid questions."

Tuck. The glass with Firewhiskey fell on the tabletop; Granger jumped from the table. Draco mowed glance on her. She stood in front of him, eyes narrowed, and he suddenly realized that if she had a wand with her he would most certainly be writhing on the floor under some nasty curses. He even got the wind up on an instance, but then he smirked inside his head - it was Granger, after all, a great peacemaker; one need to really try to piss her off so he could get something more than a simple slap, and that wasn't a case.

"Then I shall deliver you from my company," she hissed and headed to her room, having left unfinished glass of Firewhiskey. Malfoy waited the door to shut, then he got a new cigarette from a pack. It was the last one for that day. He'd finish smoking and then he had to sleep.


End file.
